Chapter Fifteen Tap
For a while, things with Eddie and me were almost perfect. One Sunday morning when both of us had the day off, we slept in together. I was still holding him, ’cause I’d gotten into the habit of spooning him when we went to bed, and usually, like today, I woke up still holding him.
I teased his T-shirt between my fingers and said, “You wanna go out and throw a Frisbee around?”
“Straight-boy stuff?”
“Yeah, we can play in the park like straight boys, then we come home and have sex like bi boys. Do you want to?”
“I’m up for that,” he said.
“There’s a Frisbee in the closet.”
He disentangled himself from me, and maybe I made it harder for him because I didn’t want to let him go. But he got up, opened the closet, and started rummaging. He looked so tempting kneeling down and leaning into my closet that I got out of the bed, knelt behind him, and put my arms around him.
“Craig?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you have any sex toys?”
“No,” I laughed, because no one had ever asked me that before.
“You ever tried anything in that department?”
“No. I was never with anybody long enough to experiment.”
“You ever wanted to?”
“I dunno.” Oh, he meant us. “Like what?”
“Maybe we could try some stuff. When you’re ready.”
“You mean fucking me?” We hadn’t talked about it before, but I knew he wanted to, because of the way he touched me sometimes. It was easier to talk about when he wasn’t looking at me.
“That too,” he said.
“I’m not ready for that.”
“That’s okay. Do you have any lube?”
“No. I never needed it with my girlfriends. Do we need it?”
“Yeah. I can get some. I’m not suggesting we do this today, but it’s good to have it on hand so when you’re ready, we can just do it. We don’t have to stop while one of us runs to the drugstore.”
“Have you done this a lot?”
“Not a lot. But I know it can hurt if you’re not careful.”
I hadn’t thought about it hurting.
“Has someone ever done it to you?” I said, thinking maybe he could explain, prepare me for what it felt like.
“No,” he said. There was a vulnerable note in his voice, like he’d let slip a secret, and I wondered how things had been with his ex-boyfriend, and why they hadn’t.
“Would you be opposed to me doing it to you?” I said. “I mean, at some point when we both want to?”
He didn’t answer right away.
“No,” he said. “I would not be opposed.”
“Then I can be your first time too, honey kid.” I’d never been anyone’s first time.
“I’m not a kid.” He clasped my arm.
“How old are you?”
All the time we’d lived together, I’d never asked. Sometimes, he seemed a lot older than me, but he looked a lot younger.
“Twenty-three,” he said.
I grinned. “When’s your birthday?”
“March.”
“March what?”
“Seventeenth.”
I was so relieved I laughed.
“What?” he said.
“I’m two days older than you, honey kid.”
“Two days is nothing,” he said.
“Try holding your breath for two days and tell me it’s nothing.”
He leaned forward and reached into my closet. “What are these?” He pulled out my K360s, turned them over, and looked at the soles. “Tap shoes?”
“They’re not just tap shoes. Those are K360s.”
“What’s the difference?”
“The difference is: do I pay the rent this month or buy myself a pair of custom K360s?”
“Why would you spend that much on tap shoes?”
“I used to dance professionally.”
“Really?” He sounded impressed, and I was massively flattered, because not much impressed him.
“Really. Why are you smiling?”
“I thought I knew you.”
“You did. You do.”
“Could you dance for me?”
“Sure, if you want.” I let him go and stood up. My tap board was leaning against the back wall of my closet, and I had to move a bunch of stuff to get it out.
I went to the living room and pushed the coffee table out of the way so there’d be room for the board.
He handed me my shoes. I blew the dust off them, and I polished them with the bottom of my T-shirt till the leather shone, and they looked like they’d been dipped in gold.
I felt bad for neglecting them. I slipped them on and tied them.
Wearing them felt like coming home. Plus, I was five-nine in them, which was what I usually told people I was, because in my head, I was always wearing my K360s.
“I warn you I’m gonna be rusty,” I told him. “I haven’t done this in a while.”
I felt self-conscious, so I closed my eyes and started my warm-up routine: shuffle front, side, back. I had a sloppy left side and a sloppy right side. But I hadn’t lost my knack. It was just taking its sweet time coming back to me.
And what was really weird, as I hadn’t gone this long without tapping since I’d put on my first pair of taps when I was four, was that even with my eyes closed, I could feel him nearby.
His presence steadied me, like the bottom of a river when you put your foot down, and you realize it’s not as deep as you thought. You’re on solid ground.
I practiced pick ups and wings and toe stands, to see how long I could hold them, and I improvised acapella, like I hadn’t for ages, and the rhythms caught and circled around him and me.
I opened my eyes to see him looking at me like he could see right into the center of me, and it was blowing his mind. No one had ever looked at me like that. Not my parents, not my girlfriends, not Ben, not Bex.
“Jesus. You could do that this whole time?”
“This is substandard work, Eddie. I’m out of practice.”
“Do you have any videos of you performing?”
“I’ve got a showreel my old agent put together. You want to see it?”
“Yeah.”
I found the DVD in my bedroom closet and put it in the machine, then I sat beside him on the couch and pressed play.
He slipped his arm around my back, and I talked him through the clips.
Most were from small competitions. I had a lot of explaining to do about my stupid outfits and bad haircuts.
The final clip was a professionally shot piece from the last company I’d danced with.
He didn’t say anything the whole time the DVD played, just watched it like it was the Stanley Cup playoffs.
When the reel ended, he said, “Why did you quit?”
“I was on a full scholarship at university, and dance took time away from school.”
Except that wasn’t the whole reason. In high school, I’d done a ton of extracurriculars including tap, and I’d still graduated at the top of my class.
University wasn’t that much harder, and I could have done both and kept my scholarship.
What made me quit was what my girlfriend Jasmine said to me when she saw me practicing, “You look gay in those gold shoes, Craig.” We’d slept together twice by then, so presumably she wasn’t calling me gay, but I stopped tapping after that.
I fucked Jasmine one more time, maybe to prove to her that I wasn’t gay.
Then I ghosted her, and I felt really gross about it afterward.
I hadn’t told Bex about that. I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Eddie.
“Don’t you miss it?” he said.
“Sure, but.” I’d been missing it for years, but my taps had stayed in my closet.
“I can’t make any promises,” he said, “but what if I could get you a part dancing in this movie I’m in?”
“It’s a dance movie?”
“No. It’s a drama, but I know the guy who’s directing it, and he does rewrites during filming all the time. I think I can talk him into making a part for you.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I’ll ask him. I’ll show him your DVD.”
“Why would he do that for you, Eddie? Wait—is that director the hot director? Jack?”
“That’s him.”
“What are you gonna tell him? ‘Hey, Jack, you know that guy I turned you down for? He hasn’t danced in years, and he can’t act, but could you put him in your movie that has nothing to do with dancing?’ ”
“Trust me,” he said. “Jack doesn’t hold grudges, and he loves a challenge.”
“I don’t know.” I felt uneasy. “It’ll interfere with my job.”
“Not if you’ve only got one scene. They can shoot around your schedule.
It’d take a day or two.” He clasped my shoulders and looked into my eyes with this expression that had so much feeling, it was hard to take.
“You’re a fucking genius. Do you not get how special you are? Don’t keep it to yourself.”
I couldn’t turn him down when he asked me like that. “You really think this Jack guy would consider it?”
“Only way to know is to ask. I can set up a meeting for the three of us. He’ll want to see you in person.”
“That won’t be awkward. Hi, Jack. I’m dating the guy you just asked out.”
“He’s a professional.” He leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t a hot kiss. It was an I-love-you kiss, and it made all my joints weak. “Do it for me, huh? It’d make me happy.”
I laughed. “Well, if it makes you happy, I can’t say no, can I, you lil shit?”